The Eyes of the Father
by OpheliaKitt
Summary: Sometimes you only realize what you've lost once you begin to retrace your steps. Set pre-series - Long time fan, first time author. I did no research for this (forgive me!). I simply borrowed the characters I fell in love with and see where my mind led them during my breaks at work.
1. Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly overhead as the three men made their way towards the southern coast of France. Porthos and Athos chatted merrily and lazily – the heat and the hazy coastline on the horizon brightening even Athos' typically sombre tones, giving them an uncharacteristic cheerfulness. It had been a long but easy journey, and there would be an expected delay in their return trip to Paris while they waited for the General's response to the King's missive, giving the musketeers a promise of a few days of sunshine and shoreline.

The only thing marring the journey south so far was the missing banter of their normally boisterous third.

Aramis trailed behind his brothers, an a-typical melancholy surrounding the marksman. He casually offered a nonchalant reply when directly called upon by his brothers, but otherwise he remained in a distracted, restless silence.

Their brother's unrest was not unnoticed by Porthos and Athos; indeed, anyone who had ever met the charming and effervescent marksman could tell that something was off. On more than one occasion Porthos had made to confront the man, but a look from Athos had him sighing in frustration but holding his peace. Now though, about a half-day's ride out from their destination, Aramis' inner turmoil seemed to be nearing its climax as Athos called a halt and instructed that they make camp for the night.

"Now then," said Athos as he lazily swirled his wine around his glass, "Will you be telling us what is troubling you or will we need to beat it out of you?" Aramis who had just returned with an armload of firewood from the surrounding forest dropped it in surprise.

"Personally, I would prefer we tackle whatever it is prior to our arrival in D'Herblay, as the wine in this region is exquisite and I should hate to have whatever's bothering you souring my appreciation of it," he drawled, the hint of his noble upbringing apparent. Porthos, who sat picking at the remaining bones from the meal the trio had just eaten, grinned.

Aramis looked from one smug face to the other, shook his head and sighed, a slow smile creeping to his face. "I suppose there's no point in telling you that I'm fine?"

Porthos barked a laugh, "First of all 'Mis, you seem to be unclear as to what the word "fine" means. Second, you're a terrible liar. Even a blind man could see somethin's wrong with ya – "

"Though a deaf man might thank you for the respite from your typical incessant chatter," quipped Athos.

Porthos grinned and continued. "You can't hide when something's bothering you from us, 'Mis. We've seen it growing on you the closer we get to the coast. Now you ain't gotta tell us what's what, but you know we're here for ya if ya need to unburden yourself with whatever's got you acting like this."

Aramis looked again at each brother – Porthos, warm, earnest, and protective, ready to fight whatever monster was plaguing his brother; and Athos, loyalty, strength and concern hidden in the frozen depths of his blue gaze. Aramis sighed again, a small but true smile on his face now as he looked at his brothers and inwardly thanked God for whatever he had done to deserve their love.

Aramis drew a deep breath and stared deeply into their small campfire. "I am sorry mes amis, if my brooding has bothered you," he said softly. "A weight has been growing on me as we set out on this mission." He hesitated, searching for words, "My father," he said slowly, "Is the General D'Herblay – a minor noble in these parts. It is to him that we are delivering the King's missive."


	2. Chapter 2

Silence followed this pronouncement. Athos' gaze had clouded over, while Porthos looked nonplussed.

"Your father is the General d'Herblay?" said Porthos. "You never mentioned that before…"

Aramis smiled sadly. "That is because I have renounced my father's name and title," he said simply. "I have not been back here since I left at sixteen…" Silence again fell over the group until it was again broken, this time by Athos.

"Your father is the General D'Herblay," Athos repeated stonily. "Why have you never mentioned that?"

"Why do you think? I never mentioned it, because it doesn't matter. He is my father but I am not his son. I left this place and all that went with it behind me long ago," snapped Aramis, storming away from Athos to the periphery of the firelight, his back now to his startled brothers.

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Porthos asked bluntly, glancing back and forth between Athos and Aramis. Silence sat like a weight between them until Athos, cowed by the fervent, silent plea from Porthos took a deep breath and began:

"What I know are only rumours," he began, "but the General D'Herblay was said to be a powerful man. A much awarded general. He led the French to many victories against Spain and the Huguenots before that. He was reputed to be the mastermind behind some of the greatest military achievements in French history."

"Well that sounds okay –" Porthos began.

Sighing, Athos continued. "Some of the General's decisions during wartime however were called into question. About how villagers were treated. Prisoners. It was more how his men behaved, but he had a reputation for being – "

"-ruthless. Vicious. Merciless," finished Aramis.

"I wasn't aware that he had any children," said Athos quietly.

"He doesn't," whispered Aramis. "Not anymore."

Athos looked at his brother who had returned, taking his seat between them. With an uncharacteristic smile that did not reach his deep, dark eyes, Aramis reached out a hand to give Athos a quick tight squeeze on the shoulder.

"I am sorry, mon ami. I had not expected for this place to have such an effect on me…still… Not after so long…" he said.

Athos nodded, recognizing ghosts similar to his own that seemed now to be haunting his kind-hearted brother. Aramis ran his hand through his rich dark curls, eyes fixed once again on the flames.

"My father," Aramis began, "is a man who gets what he wants. You have probably heard the stories of the battle of Amandie while you were in the Infantry?"

"Ya," said Porthos. "20 Frenchmen managed to drive out an entire battalion to retake the city. They say that battle was the reason why we won that war."

"What they don't tell you about that victory is how the men managed it. They attacked by night. Enemy soldiers had taken over the small town, which was still surrounded by an old Roman wall, impenetrable, save for a single gate. The men crept from house to house on the periphery of the town, coating the foundations with pitch. A fuse was lit and the houses were set to burn," said Athos.

"My father barred the gates and sat there, listening to the men scream while the village burned…" whispered Aramis.

"But the villagers…" Porthos began before a look from Athos cut him off.

"Eventually, they opened the gates. Many of the villagers had taken refuge in the cellar of the church. The remaining soldiers were murdered and their corpses were hung around the city's walls as a lesson," Athos concluded.

"I'm surprised you knew all that," said Aramis slowly.

"My father insisted I have a knowledge of a full military history. He delighted in highlighting anecdotes that he thought would inspire me to be more obedient…" Athos replied.

Aramis grimaced. "I am sorry for that brother."

Athos sighed, "Don't be. I am better for it. If anything, my father's mania helped me to formulate an idea of the type of man to not be."

"Then I think we are the same in that," said Aramis, a sly grin on his face, his eyes alight with the dark fire of his demons. "When I was finally able to flee my father's home, I threw away my name and anything that connected me with that man. I used the name my mother gave me, Aramis, and the compassion she taught me and have lived my life trying to be better, to do good. To help, defend and heal the innocent."


	3. Chapter 3

Wow everyone! Thanks so much for the great feedback right off the get-go!

I'm going to try to post a new chapter every day or two. Thanks for the warm welcome into the community!

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The three men sat there in the glow of the firelight, reflecting on the marksman's statement. Words had never rung truer for the swordsman or the brawler either. Each man joined the Musketeers to serve their country, their king and justice and by doing so, protecting the innocent, they would make the world a better place.

"Your mother…" Porthos said after a while, breaking the silence thoughtfully, "She always sounded like such a good woman. How is it that she could have ended up with a brute like your father? – no offence!" he added hastily.

Aramis gave a wry chuckle. "None taken, mon ami. My mother," he said "was a saint. She taught me about love and what it means to be alive and to care for others. She was young when she met my father. He was handsome, and charming and used to getting his way, and she was very beautiful. He wooed her and promised to marry her in secret. My mother was in love."

"Needless to say, my father never returned. Now alone and pregnant with me, a Spanish woman on French soil, my mother was turned away from all the businesses in her village. All except one…"

Growing up in the Court of miracles, Porthos knew exactly what type of business would offer shelter to a young, vulnerable and beautiful woman…

"Madame Jasmine took my mother in. She gave us a place to live, but most importantly, she let my mother keep me with her in the brothel. I grew up there, a little king among courtesans, spoiled rotten. It was there I learned of the intelligence of women, and the idiocy of men. I saw love, and loss and the tragedy of loneliness. You know, half the patrons were only seeking comfort, a caring ear and a gentle touch to help them cope with their realities. I was taught to read and given books on theatre and poetry and Madame Jasmine taught me bookkeeping. One of my mother's regulars took a bit of a shining to me and taught me how to ride at 8 and shoot by 10."

Aramis paused for a moment, reflecting on a few happier memories from his youth before continuing. "It wasn't long after when my father came for me. My mother had written him, telling him of my existence. He arrived not long after my tenth birthday to take me to his estate. My mother begged me to go with him – I didn't know it then, but she was sick. Dying. – so I went with him, this stranger, and I never saw my mother again. She died less than a year later. I was told it was consumption, but I believe it was from a broken heart."

Aramis snapped a twig he had been toying with and tossed it into the fire. "When I arrived at my father's estate it was quite a shock. I learned that my father had been married and had one older daughter. His wife had died a few years before I arrived. My father, when he found the time…made a project out of me. He was determined to turn me into a man and to squash what he called my mother's weaknesses out of me. When he wasn't around I was mostly left to myself – my father drove away any of the staff that would befriend me and I was forbidden to play with the children of the village. The old cook and groundskeeper took pity on me – they taught me to sew wounds and about herb craft. Father permitted this as the groundskeeper also helped me improve my shooting. I was allowed to attend the church - my mother instilled her fierce faith within me early. Other than that and lessons with my father, I was mostly alone."

"What about your sister?" asked Porthos, disturbed slightly by the haunted loneliness that was now present in his brother's voice, failing to hide something unsaid about his childhood. "What was she like?"

"My sister? Annabella…" Aramis sighed. "I did not know her long. She was 5 years older than I was, but she was kind to me when I arrived. She laughed a lot, and she loved when I'd recite the poems I knew for her. We would make jokes about the young soldiers that my father paraded passed her, hoping that one would catch her eye. She, you understand, was his prize. She stood up to him. Tried to protect me…" Aramis paused. "He resented that there was a natural love between the two of us and she hated that…" another pause. "It was little more than a year after my arrival that he forced her away, sending her to the North. Five years later, when I truly learned what kind of man my father was, I ran away, renouncing his name and lands. I had hoped never to return here. I was sixteen..."

His two brothers sat stunned, listening to their third's origin story for the first time, each seeing a reflection of their own upbringing in the marksman's – Athos knew well the isolation and discipline of an uncaring father, while Porthos knew the struggle of his early life, the loss of a mother and the feeling of being lesser-than.

But Athos and Porthos knew Aramis well. Only they could recognize the depth of pain and unresolved anger in their brother - and there was something else that Aramis continued to skirt around. Athos and Porthos knew better than to pry, but they were wary.

Light chatter returned to the group as they settled in for the night. Athos, from his perch, watched Aramis as he lay sleeping, a serene calm on his face and a slight smile on his lips, dreaming no doubt about lying in the arms of one of his fair mistresses.

His brow furrowed. Athos had heard many rumours about the General D'Herblay and his method of discipline. As he watched his brother's sleeping form, he hoped that those rumours were unfounded and he vowed to no god and any god that might be listening that he would do anything in his power to protect his brother from the horrors he knew he was hiding.

oOo


	4. Chapter 4

Ok, I'm posting two chapters today because this one is kind of short...Hopefully they can tide you over through the weekend! Thanks again for the kind reviews! I'm a little overwhelmed tbh. :-)

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Morning dawned, cool and grey but the mood around the camp was much lighter. Aramis seemed less burdened and was chatting almost merrily as they struck camp and mounted their horses.

The sun was fighting its way through the clouds as the trio finally entered the coastal town, busy with villagers and vendors in a crowded town square. As the musketeers made their way towards the inn, locals skirted their path casting wary glances at the fleur-de-lis on their pauldrons. A man in his middle ages leaning against a fence post stared openly at the group, and set off as soon as they passed him.

Handing their mounts to a stable boy, they entered the inn. "Not the friendliest of welcomes…" muttered Porthos.

"But not exactly hostile," replied Athos as he threw a cursory glance around the inn at its patrons and the man behind the bar.

"Good day gentlemen, what can I…-" the innkeeper began, then broke off suddenly, his eyes widening on Aramis.

"We will need a room," Athos responded, ignoring the innkeeper's reaction.

"Yes…of course…right away. May I ask, how long do you gentlemen intend on staying with us?" the innkeeper stammered.

"We have business with the General on behalf of the King, and should be here for a few days at least," answered Aramis, politely.

"Unless that's an inconvenience to you…" questioned Athos with a stern look and a raised eyebrow.

"No! Of course not! The King's elite guard are always welcome – though I should mention, the General may not be here at the moment. It is unlikely he or his party will be returning much before tomorrow at the earliest. My name is Javert and I own this inn. You must be hungry? Thirsty? Let me show you to your rooms and perhaps have something brought to you to eat," he said.

"I could eat," said Porthos.

"You could always eat," grinned Aramis as the men followed Javert to a large room with three beds on the second floor.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to call at the manor first," suggested Athos. "We could leave word with the staff of our arrival."

"Somehow I think they're already aware. Somethin' tells me they don't get a lot of musketeers around here," said Porthos.

"All right," said Aramis with a resigned sigh. "May as well get this over with quickly. Thank you Javert. We will return shortly and will let you know if we require anything else," he said offering the man one of his charming grins.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir. And may I say, welcome back," the old man blustered as he quickly backed out of the room.

Aramis stared after the man, then ducked his head, sobriety replacing the previous humour.

"You ok?" asked Porthos who had immediately responded to the droop in his friend's shoulders with a warm hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm fine, mon ami. I'm just surprised he recognized me. Ok, the sooner we get there and can see the General, the sooner we can leave," he said and led the way out the door.

oOo


	5. Chapter 5

"Wow," whispered Porthos as they made their way up the long expanse towards the manor house. The sprawling lawn was lined with fruit trees in flower and was crowned by the grand home at its end. To the south, the property led to a steady slope down to a beach where the waves could be heard crashing below. A dense wooded area surrounded the rest of the home. Armed guard stood at attention every twenty paces.

Aramis' back was stiff, his sharp instincts on an even higher alert as they made their way up the steps of his father's home and into the foyer where they were met by a sour, middle-aged valet.

"The master is not at home," announced the man, voice immediately dripping with condescension. "I suggest you return from whence you came. I shall have my master's men remove you from the property."

"That won't be necessary," responded Athos with all the indifference his noble upbringing had afforded him. "We are here on a private business matter. Inform your master of our arrival in town where we will be staying until our business is concluded."

"What business could **you** have with my master?" replied the man, meeting Athos' cold indifference with steely derision.

Aramis scowled. "We come with a message from the King. The General is duty-bound to accept and respond to the missive. Do not play your games, Charles. Tell the General that we will return tomorrow," he said, eyes flashing, battling his anger.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," tutted Charles. "All these years and you are still an undisciplined, prideful mongrel…"

"Hey!" shouted Porthos, stepping forward, stopped only by Athos' outstretched arm.

"Tell the General we shall return tomorrow." Aramis repeated coldly as he turned on his heel and headed out the door, Porthos in step behind him.

Athos hovered a moment longer and leant in towards Charles. "For a man of the General's reputation, the impudence of his serving staff is astounding...I may tell the General how this will be included in my report to his Majesty. The King is so detail oriented after all and as his representatives, he's always very concerned over how we are receive in his service," he whispered, voice full of menace. He followed his brothers outside, smirking at the look of panic evident on the rude valet's face.

Outside in the courtyard, Athos found Aramis pacing furiously while Porthos attempted to calm him.

"I never should have come on this mission. I can't stand being back here, surrounded by them. So many years and nothing has changed. Why did I come? I never should have agreed to this mission…"

"How is he?" Athos asked sarcastically.

"Bright as a rainbow," Porthos responded. Aramis glared at them.

"Let's get out of here. I need a drink," he snapped and began marching towards the stables.

"Isn't that typically your line?" Porthos muttered to Athos with a small wink as they followed in the marksman's wake, nearly toppling over him when he came to a sudden and unexpected halt just outside the stable doors.

What had brought Aramis to his screeching halt was immediately obvious. Standing in front of the stable doors was one of the most beautiful women Porthos had ever seen. The wind tugged at her dark curls which were pulled back and cascaded down her shoulders. Her fair complexion was rose tinged and kissed by the sun. Large green eyes showed a cavalcade of warring emotions as she looked out at the marksman.

"Rene…" she said breathlessly, her voice rich with music and emotion. Her lower lip quivered slightly.

"Annabella…" In three strides, the marksman and the woman closed the distance between them and met in a tight embrace. They stayed that way for a few moments, ecstasy written on both their faces, before Annabella pulled away, laughing and wiping tears from her face, overcome with emotion. Porthos had never seen such a beautiful sight.

"Rene!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Why did you come back? I thought I would never see you again," she cried and leant in for another tight hug.

Aramis cupped her face in his hand and stroked away a vagrant tear. "It's good to see you too. It has been much, MUCH too long."

"I should say! You're all grown up!" she said, sobering and taking Aramis chin in her hand to better examine his face. "It's a shame Rene. You didn't turn out handsome…" she said teasingly.

Porthos guffawed loudly, reminding the marksman of his and Athos' presence.

"Gentlemen," he said, leading Annabella towards the men., "may I have the pleasure to introduce my sister, Annabella. Annabella, this is Athos and Porthos. My family." He added.

A cloud passed quickly across those bright green eyes at the emphasis of those last two words, but she curtsied and smiled warmly, taking each man by the hand in turn, causing Porthos to blush slightly.

"It is an honour to meet you…Aramis never mentioned he had a sister," said Athos.

"And perhaps it's no wonder," thought Porthos. Even Athos seemed to be taken aback by the presence of the beautiful woman.

"Aramis?" she said questioningly.

"The name my mother gave me. The name I chose," said Aramis, face colouring slightly with a look of defence in his eyes.

"Aramis…" she repeated. "It suits you." She smiled warmly and took his face in her hands again. "I am so glad to see you. Brother." She let that word linger for a moment, a tentative, yet demonstrative step. Aramis' eyes saddened slightly, but when he didn't draw away Annabella continued.

"but honestly Aramis," she said, trying out the name. "What are you doing here? Why would you ever come back to this place?"

"I'm here on duty to the King," he said abruptly, eyes flashing as he glanced quickly at his friends. Porthos looked at Athos with a cocked eyebrow who gave a slight shake of his head, indicating he too felt something was amiss.

"Father is not here," she said darkly. "He's out with his thugs hunting." Her brow furrowed slightly.

"Charles said as much," replied Aramis bluntly, a foreign formality suddenly appearing between the siblings. "Please tell the General that we will return tomorrow."

Annabella shot Aramis a knowing look at the bitterness of his tone. Aramis cast his eyes to the ground under her concerned scrutiny.

"We are staying at the inn," said Athos, breaking the tension and dismissing their group simultaneously. "We shall return before midday. We would appreciate it if you could inform the General," he said with a bow as he turned to mount his horse that Porthos had retrieved from the stable.

"Yes," she said. "I will."

With a final squeeze of her hand, Aramis too turned and mounted his horse, an unfathomable expression on his face as they rode away from the house with Annabella looking after them. She had crossed her arms across her middle, holding herself together. She would wait until he was safely out of sight before she allowed herself to cry.

oOo


	6. Chapter 6

Wanted to get this up before Sunday morning errands take over my day. Thank you again for the kind reviews, follows and favourites!

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They were more than midway through their second bottle of wine, when Athos placed a third bottle on the table and looking at Aramis said, "Would you like to talk about what transpired this afternoon?"

Porthos slowly lowered his glass. Aramis swirled his cup's remaining content, drained the glass and poured himself another.

"What exactly would you like to talk about?" he responded, the wine affording a slightly aggressive and defensive tone he didn't normally use with his brothers.

"Why don't we start with the incident with Charles. I need to know if your presence will bring anything that may cause conflict with the completion of our mission," Athos responded, ignoring Aramis' challenge and efficiently opening the third bottle and refilling his and Porthos' glasses.

"To that I have no answer," said Aramis solemnly. "Charles has been my father's valet for more than 30 years. He practically raised him. He always looked at and treated me cruelly. My very existence, the bastard proof of his master's brief dalliance with a Spaniard, served as a permanent blemish on his master's reputation. I think he took my being as a symbol of his personal failure."

Porthos growled, "How dare he say what 'e did abou' you! I wanted 'ta kill him!"

"That hardly would have helped foster a positive outcome for our mission," said Athos wryly, recalling the pale and panicked face of the man after he had responded to the slight on his brother.

Aramis chuckled lowly. "Thank you mon ami, but I believe Charles used the term "mongrel" only as he was in polite company. He has said and done much worse. For a while, I had thought my name to actually be "Bastard", Charles' favourite pet name for me," said Aramis, his joke falling flat.

Porthos roared again suddenly, startling the patrons at the table next to them. Aramis and Athos grinned into their wine glasses as Porthos apologized profusely to the frightened bar maid who had smashed a pitcher at Porthos' outburst.

"Seriously though Aramis," said Athos taking another sip of his wine, "Is there anything you need to share with us in advance of meeting with your father tomorrow?"

Aramis stared into the depths of his glass in contemplation. "To be honest mon ami, I don't know what to expect." He took a slow drink as Porthos re-settled himself.

"I left here at a very tumultuous time in my life. I was brought here as a child and spent years in this house feeling…like less than nothing and fouler than an embarrassment. I was hated by those like Charles, pitied by the few kind servants, but always made to feel alone. The final straw came when I was sixteen. I fell in love with a girl from the village and we were determined to marry. Annabella had already been ripped out of my life and married off. My father could not conceive of his son, bastard though I was, to marry a commoner. My father cruelly took pleasure in separating us and ordered her father to refuse to tell me her location or where they had hidden her. My father was determined to punish me, to finally break me of my disobedience once and for all, but I escaped. I gathered what few precious items I had from my mother and left. I searched for the girl for months and had given up hope when I stumbled upon the army. Perhaps it was thanks to my father's teachings, but I was a natural soldier. My medical knowledge and swordsmanship kept me alive, but my shooting made me valuable and brought me to Treville and the musketeers." Aramis paused again, taking another sip from his glass. "My father believes above all that all things can be overcome through discipline. Pain, pleasure, stubbornness, mercy…My father was merciless in educating me in these principles, but I believe in some way, this has made me the man I am today."

There was a silence following this as each man considered the mystery of these last words.

"Your sister…," Porthos began slowly. "Why didn't you ever tell us…"

"- she was so beautiful?" Aramis asked with a knowing grin and a raised eyebrow.

"No, I mean, well ya…but I mean…"Porthos stammered, flushed and embarrassed. Aramis chuckled good-naturedly.

"As I said, Annabella and I were together for less than two years before my father took her from my life as well. She was married to a man from the North of France and that was the last I'd known of her until today. Annabella was one of the only bright spots in my life in Herblay. She was the only one who made me feel like family and I fell in love with her instantly. She was like my mother, sister, my defender….my friend in a world that was otherwise hostile and cold. When she was to be married she had promised to write, but…When I cut the ties to my father, I intended it to be forever. That included any connection to her as well."

Porthos growled lowly once more. "Don't you go thinking like that 'Mis." Aramis looked up at Porthos, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

"I know the way that brain of yours works. She loves you Aramis. You should have seen the relief on her face when you met. You may have cut ties to your family, but it's plain as day that she hasn't cut ties to you."

"She doesn't even know me Porthos. I was not even twelve when she left. I doubt she has thought of me once since then."

"Agh, she knows you. She knows the goodness that is in you. She knows you are her brother, and if you ask me, she'd still do anything to defend you given the opportunity."

Athos nodded. "As would we," he said raising his glass in a toast.

"All for one…" Aramis said raising his glass to meet Athos'.

"And one for all," said Porthos, raising his glass to close the circle of their toast.

oOo


	7. Chapter 7

This one's a longer one! Keep the feedback coming!

Hope you enjoy it!

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Breakfast the next morning was solemn. Aramis' gaze uncontinuously flitted to the face of the clock mounted on the wall, while Porthos combatted the effects of too much good wine from the night before. Athos appeared unaffected yet watched Aramis from beneath the brim of his hat. Internally, he wondered if it might be a better idea for Aramis to remain at the inn, however, with the recognition by the valet and the fortuitous reunion with Annabella, the meeting between father and son was inevitable.

Thus it was that the trio arrived just prior to mid-morning at the General's estate.

As they neared the front of the house, the clashing of blades could be heard. The musketeers approached warily. In the courtyard before the doors of the home stood a dozen armed men, gathering to watch two men spar – One clearly had the upper hand as his opponent was bleeding rather rapidly.

The musketeers left their horses at the stable and approached the group on foot.

"I don't like this," growled Porthos lowly.

"Easy Porthos," muttered Athos. "Do not draw unless drawn upon. We are emissaries of the King. We must be received."

"It's not the receivin' I'm worried about," he muttered. "It's the leavin'"

Aramis said nothing, eyes fixed on the sparring men. Closer up, it was apparent that the more skilled swordsman was an older gentleman. Strong and handsome, with a few quick parries to dislodge a feeble counter-attack and a brutal blow to the face with the bridge of his rapier, the man stood over his defeated opponent as though to strike a killing blow.

"General d'Herblay!" Athos shouted as the General plunged his sword down quickly into the earth, inches from the reeling form of his opponent.

"In this army, we give no quarter," the older man said to the man at his feet, his voice low with a seductive quality. "In this army, we have no tolerance for weakness. We feel no pain. We need no sustenance." Turning to face his gathered men he continued, "in this army we worship discipline and glory."

"Glory or Death!" the assembled men shouted back at him.

"Glory or Death! Dismissed!" he repeated. The General stepped forward, cleaning his rapier on the sleeve of his shirt as his men helped his opponent to his feet and away from the stunned musketeers.

"Musketeers. I was told you would be arriving. I am the General D'Herblay," he said, extending his hand to Athos – his opponent's blood a scarlet stain on the expensive silk shirt.

Athos took in the man – His dark hair was streaked with silver. He was tall and broad – nearly of Porthos' size - and wore an exquisitely crafted rapier at this side. His clothing was of the finest silks, though the silk cravat he woredid not quite cover a large scar that crept up his neck. Power seemed to radiate off of him. "A jaguar," thought Athos as he shook the man's outstretched hand.

"Thank you for meeting with us. I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. We come bearing –"

"So this is what you've become, is it?" said the General, ignoring Athos. His dark eyes were locked onto Aramis', and in that instance, there was no question that the two men were related. The General stared back at Aramis with the same dark and deadly eyes that Porthos had witnessed countless times flash in the face of an enemy when one of their lives had been in danger. However, where Aramis' eyes, though dark and dangerous, were also capable of compassion and love, humour and mischief, Porthos saw only darkness and danger in the older man.

Aramis did not respond. He stared coldly back at his father, locked in a secret battle of wills.

"We come bearing a message from his Majesty, King Louis – " Athos tried again.

"Your reputation precedes you. Les Inseparables they call you. The King's elite," He purred. Every word was thrown like a dagger at his son. Porthos shifted his weight slightly, breaking the General's engagement as he took in the glower evident on Porthos' face.

"Sir, we come with a message from the King. Will you accept it?" Athos tried once more, his hand drifting casually to rest on the pommel of his rapier as he stepped forward in front of Aramis.

The General looked at the three men, taking in the defensive posture of the swordsman and the brawler and smiled, the ugly scar twisting at his jaw line. "Of course," he purred. "Forgive me. I am being rude. Let us reconvene inside. I've had my valet prepare refreshments." Without waiting for acceptance of his invitation, the General turned and strode towards the open door of his home.

"Aramis…" Porthos began, shifting his weight again nervously.

"Leave it," said Aramis as he strode after his father into the house.

"Athos," said Porthos, grabbing the lieutenant's arm before they made to follow. "I don't like this. Something doesn't feel right."

"It is our duty to deliver the message and await a reply for the King. Our interaction with the General need only be minimal." Porthos made to reply but Athos cut him off. "I know Porthos, I do not trust him either. The mania of his men has me concerned as well, but until he has taken physical action against us or Aramis, we are here at the General's leisure," he said and led the way into the house.

"Ok," Porthos grumbled. "But don't tell me that was fatherly affection. If he tries anything…" Porthos trailed off.

"…we'll kill him," thought Athos, sharing Porthos' sentiment.

Athos couldn't quite shake that standoff they had just witnessed between father and son, despite the volatile relationship he had had with his own father. There was something in the General's eyes as he stared at Aramis – more than anger…was it jealousy? Athos would need to keep his wits about him while they dealt with the General.

The musketeers were led to a large library just off the front hallway. The shelves were lined with military histories, and maps of past battlefields were piled on an ornate wood desk that stood next to a large fireplace. A fire crackled haughtily in spite of the heat of the morning.

The General stood in front of his desk, his likeness in full battle glory was captured in a portrait hanging from the wall behind him. The body of a massive bear was stuffed and stood threateningly next to the desk, still emanating power despite the lifelessness of its glass eyes.

"I killed that one with this very blade," said the General, pulling a dagger from his belt and gesturing at the stuffed animal to Porthos. "That was in my much younger days," he said smiling widely with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Porthos said nothing, but stared back at the cold cruel eyes, hopefully communicating his own penchant for violence and protectiveness of his brother in the silent exchange. The General smiled again, a slight shift in his eyes indicating that the message may have been received.

"Again, forgive me for that display earlier. My men need to be reminded what serving under me means."

"Glory or death. Without mercy. Without remorse," spat Aramis.

The General shifted to look at his son. "It is good to see you, my boy. I'm glad to see they've made a man of you. I've heard a lot about you through the years…the boy spy was it? Then death from the line? Your rifle skills used to make the rounds through the ranks. La Rochelle? D'Orsay? Alemagne ? I would have hoped that your years in battle would have finally driven those weaknesses from you…"

"It is not weakness to show mercy," responded Aramis. "It is not weakness to save a life."

The General sipped his wine, smiling dangerously. "I don't believe we've been introduced," the General said suddenly, turning to face the others, a pair of dark eyes and a pair of blue ones flashing in the library.

"Name's Porthos du Vallon," he said.

"Porthos du Vallon," the General drawled. "Yes, yes, I've heard all about you as well. Crawled your way up from the streets, I heard, to become the best hand-to-hand fighter in the infantry. I'm assuming that's how you won your commission, is it not? That leaves you, Athos, I believe? Forgive me, but your military record was not as clear."

"I was known for a time by another name," Athos put bluntly, ending the inquiry. "If you will, sir, here is the missive from his majesty, the King. He is expecting a reply."

The General took the papers from Athos' outstretched hand, and giving them a cursory looked, he asked the muleteers to wait in the foyer. Twenty minutes later, Charles appeared. A similar sneer, though somewhat cowed was on his face.

"My master has asked that you dine with him and his daughter this evening," he said sourly.

"Perhaps not," said Aramis a disdainful smile on his lips. "The service here is not to my tastes."

"Aramis," scolded Annabella entering the foyer from an adjoining hall. "I remember you being far more courteous than that." Aramis blushed slightly, a little boy once again admonished by his older sister.

"I always said your father should have put that dog down when he was still a pup…" sneered Charles.

"Charles!" turning on her heel to face the valet, eyes burning. In that moment, it was clear to Porthos that though her eyes were lighter, Annabella had also inherited some form of the fire of her father. "How dare you! These men are guests of this house. How dare you say such a thing!"

" I am sorry Miss –"

"These are Musketeers. Representatives of the King and my guests. When did my father permit discourtesy in his home!" she scolded.

"Forgive me Miss. That was not meant for your ears…"

"I am no longer a little girl anymore," she said coldly. "You will address me as Mistress. If I ever hear you treat my guests this way again you will be punished."

"And," she said taking a step closer and dropping her voice to the stern, cold tenor of a general, "Aramis is my brother and the finest marksman in France. I would be very careful of what you say in his presence. He is no longer the small boy you used to torment.– yes, I know how you treated him. You should be ashamed." With that she turned her back on the stricken man who cowered out of the room.

"Annabella…" said Aramis, staring at the woman. Her face was flushed though the fire in her eyes dampened as she took in her brother.

"Well, that proves it," thought Porthos. "Even anger can be beautiful…"

"Sorry," she said blushing more deeply. "I have been wanting to do that for so long!"

"It was well done," said Porthos grinning.

Annabella beamed at him and Porthos' heart melted in his chest. "Pull yourself together man!" he thought.

"Please,' she said, "Don't let that disgraceful invitation deter you from its intent. Father and I would like to have you stay for dinner…and maybe as our guests for the duration of your visit?" she added hopefully.

"We will insist upon remaining in our rooms at the inn," answered Athos, "However, we would be honoured to dine with you this evening."

Annabella deflated slightly, but recovered at Athos' promise of dinner.

"Well if I've enticed you with dinner, perhaps I can also convince you to join me for a quiet lunch?"

"Please," she added, her fiery eyes soft and pleading as she once more looked in Aramis' direction. He swallowed and nodded his head slowly.

She grinned triumphantly. "Excellent. I'll advise the staff to prepare a table in the solarium. It's a little cool to eat outdoors today. Please, make yourselves comfortable. This was your home once too, Aramis," she said pointedly. "Not all your memories of this place are awful, surely." And with that she left the trio staring after her in her wake, Aramis blushing once more.

"I don't think you've ever been this quiet, this regularly, for this long in your life," said Athos after a few moments. "And, she's made you blush at least three times now" he added matter-of-factly. "We must ask her secret," he said with a cocked eyebrow, humour twinkling in his eyes.

Porthos' bark of laughter and Aramis' hearty chuckle lifted the spirits of all three men. Aramis ran a hand through his curls and shaking his head, he gestured to his brothers. "Come on," he said and led the way to the solarium.

oOo


	8. Chapter 8

A little more about Aramis and Annabella's back story. Hope you like it!

ooooooooo

The room was large and bright with two walls made up of windows, giving an almost unobstructed view of the pavilion outside and the incline that led down to the sea beyond. Exotic plants grew everywhere with boughs of ivy and wisteria hanging from the vaulted glass ceiling. The room was warm and the faint sound of water from the small fishpond could be heard harmonizing with the steady crash of sea waves scarcely heard through the glass partition. Athos and Porthos looked around in wonder. Even Athos, himself of noble lineage, had never been in a room quite like this.

"Some of my father's trophies. He would bring home plants from many of the lands he travelled to," said Annabella as she entered with her father.

"All for you, my treasure," purred the General. Annabella looked embarrassed.

"For my mother," she corrected. "She commissioned this entire room be built."

"A visionary," he murmured, the smouldering fire in his eyes dimming fractionally.

"Will you join us for lunch, father?" Annabella asked kindly.

"No, unfortunately not," said the General, the brief flicker of humanity once again replaced by the cold fire of command. "The tidings you bring from the King are long and complex. I shall need time to consider my response...I trust you will enjoy what time you have left with us." With that he bowed to the musketeers, kissed his daughter's hand and abruptly left the room.

"Please sit," she said recovering from the sudden and odd departure and gesturing to the table that had been set for four. "Come Porthos," she said, taking him by the arm. "Sit by me and tell me about my brother and what trouble he's gotten you into." Porthos grinned as he was led by the lady and began chatting animatedly with the beautiful young woman. Athos raised his eyebrow to Aramis who shook his head and grinned, seemingly happy for the first time in days.

"Well, not happy, but calmer, more content," Athos thought as they followed the pair to the table, Annabella's laughter like the tinkling of bells, Porthos' like the booming of a drum.

After a fine repast, the quartet sat there, Annabella listening intently to the stories of their adventures as musketeers.

"…and because of that Athos will never eat vichyssoise again!" roared Porthos.

"Yes," said Athos dryly. "How was it that when you two pick a fight with a nobleman's cook, I am the one covered in cold soup?"

"Or feathers," said Porthos.

"Or powdered sugar," added Aramis as he and Porthos burst out laughing once more. Athos took another drink from his glass, but Annabella knew it was to hide the smirk and drown the laughter that had almost escaped his lips.

"It is good to hear you laughing," said Annabella to Aramis with a fond smile.

"Typically it's harder to keep him quiet," said Athos affectionately gesturing towards Aramis.

"Insufferably cheerful, that one is," Porthos added, refilling their glasses.

Aramis stood and doffing his hat performed a dramatic, flourishing bow, to the laughter and applause of the others.

Settling himself back in his seat, Aramis looked across the table at Annabella. "I have missed you, sister," he said, hesitantly tasting the word. He smiled sadly, pausing.

"Why…why did you never write to me after you left…you have no idea what it was like…" he trailed off.

Annabella looked shocked, then all at once she began to cry, softly and sadly. The most beautiful tragic tears Porthos had ever seen. "Damn!" he thought. "She even makes misery beautiful."

"How can you say that?" she said, her voice trembling, and hardly more than a whisper. "I wrote you every day!" A silence fell, thick and heavy.

"I never...no one..." Aramis stammered.

"Did you think I could have forgotten you? That I didn't know what I was leaving you with? It's been 12 years since I last heard anything about you – Father wrote me when you left," she said, the large tears continuing to fall from her bright green eyes. "I tried finding out what had happened to you! But you had changed your name. There was no trace of Rene D'Herblay, and father refused to help. He said you had made your decision and I should forget you. How could I?" she said, through the tears flowing steadily down her cheeks.

"I have thought of you every day. Wondering if you were alive, if you were well. If you were loved. Wondering what it was, what he did, what had happened to have finally driven you away," she whispered, dropping her head to gaze at her hands folded in her lap. "Wondering if I'd ever see you again – if you'd even want to see me after this place. When I saw you yesterday, it was like seeing a ghost."

The three men sat there in shock and overcome by emotion as Annabella cried silently. Porthos took her small hand in his and gave it a slight squeeze, lost for words, but wanting to comfort the woman. She looked at it and smiled slightly.

"Annabella…" Aramis started. "I'm…I'm sorry… I didn't know...When you left…"

Aramis paused, searching for words that usually came so easily to him. "When you left, it was terrible here. I was a child. No one would tell me where you went or how I could reach you. I was only told you were sent north to be married and that you were well rid of a disgrace like me...I never knew…then, when I never heard from you and the things that were said…I just thought…I was wrong. They used you, your memory, to hurt me. They said it was weakness. So I learned to…live without...I thought I was wrong. I thought you were ashamed of me…"

"Never," she said fiercely, eyes on fire through the tears.

They were interrupted suddenly by a squeal of laughter and a young voice calling "Mamma!"

"Here my darling! We're here!" she called back, brushing away her tears and composing herself quickly. "Hello my little warrior! What are you up to?"

A little boy bounced into their midst, no more than 6, a toy sword at his side, a mop of curls and dark eyes, wide in wonder at seeing the three men in uniform at the table with his mother. The three men rose as he cautiously approached and stood beside his mother, protectively grasping her arm.

"Come now!" she said, scooping him into her arms. "No kiss for your Mamma?" The boy dutifully placed a kiss on her cheek, eyes still trained on the Musketeers.

"Come, love, there is someone very special I want you to meet," she said rising and leading her son before Aramis. "This is your uncle Aramis," she said, "and these are his friends, Athos and Porthos. They're Musketeers! The best soldiers in all of France!" she whispered into his ear. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates looking again at the men. Aramis knelt before the bow, removing his hat. Athos and Porthos also made slight bows towards the boy from behind Aramis.

Said Aramis, extending his hand to the boy, "It is a pleasure to meet you…"

"Rene," said Annabella. "His name is Rene. Rene Jean. Jean, for his father."

The boy took his hand and shook it, his face grinning and eager. "Are you really my uncle? And a Musketeer?" he gushed.

"I am," said Aramis with a chuckle. "As are my friends. Athos is a lieutenant and the best swordsman in France. And Porthos, Porthos is the strongest man in the world!" he said

The boy's eyes widened again as they focused on Porthos. "You're big!" he said in awe. "I want to be that big when I grow up!" he said.

The adults all laughed.

"Well," said Porthos, "you might be, one day," he said with a wink which had the boy squeal with delight.

"Rene," said Athos, looking over at Aramis who was staring incredulously at the boy. "I think your mother and uncle need to talk. I think I hear the sounds of a fishpond. Could you show it to me? Then Porthos and I can tell you stories about being a musketeer," he said. The boy sprang forward and grabbing the hilt of his sword and Porthos by the wrist he began dragging the laughing musketeer towards the pond.

Athos nodded at Aramis before following the giant and the boy towards the pond.

"He's beautiful," breathed Aramis.

"You would say that," said Annabella with a slight laugh. "He looks like you!"

Aramis grinned, "Lucky boy then," he said with a wink as they retreated back to the table. Annabella collapsed into a chair, bringing her hand to her head to cover her eyes for a moment. Aramis poured her some more wine.

They sat in silence for a moment, peacefully staring out at the sea in the distance.

"I'm sorry Aramis," Annabella began. "I'm sorry that I left you here."

Aramis shook his head. "You were a child. There was nothing either of us could do. You couldn't have known what my education was like. Father always kept you separate from it."

"But I knew you weren't being treated well. I saw the way he isolated you. I begged him to stop, but he said it would make you strong," she said sadly. "When he saw how much and how quickly we loved each other, that's when he sent me away. For whatever Charles may have said, Aramis, father was proud to have a son. Father never did anything recklessly, so he must have loved your mother. He wanted to train you to be like him."

"He was wrong," said Aramis.

"He was," agreed Annabella. "He never understood you," she continued, a slight bitter laugh escaping her. "Your heart he saw as weakness, and tried to tear that away from you. But your heart, your compassion, your ability to love…all the things that make you the man that you are, Aramis, those are your greatest strength. I knew that even then. I spent so many nights weeping over you, and what they might be doing to mold you into the soldier father wanted."

Aramis was quiet. "His father…Jean…"

"He died," said Annabella. "Over two years ago now. Infection from a wound he had taken in battle. Rene doesn't remember him much, but I'm trying…"

"I'm sorry," said Aramis after a beat. "Was he a good man?"

"He was. I loved him," she said softly. "He was the son of a nobleman, but he insisted on serving his King and country. He was clever. He used to make me laugh." She paused again, remembering.

She sighed and continued her explanation, "He took a musket ball to the thigh while protecting part of the northern border. The infection spread quickly. I buried him in his family plot. We came back here only six months ago. The north is so cold and full of ghosts when you're alone."

"I am sorry to have never met him," said Aramis softly. "To thank him…He sounds like a good man."

"Thank you," she said sighing. "I am sorry that Rene should grow up without him."

"He has his mother," replied Aramis, taking her hands in his, "and a stronger, smarter, more caring woman I doubt there has ever been."

"Aramis! Aramis!" Rene came running through the foliage towards them. "Is it true? Athos says that you're the finest marksman in France and that you could hit an acorn from 100 paces!"

"200, I'd say," said Porthos as he and Athos pulled into view behind the boy. "and blindfolded!"

"Really?!" squealed the child. "Can you teach me to do that?"

Aramis laughed heartily, eyes shining as brightly as the boy's and pulling the lad onto his knee he said, "Well maybe when you're older I can teach you," he said, adding mischievously, a glance at Annabella who smiled at the pair. "But first I should teach you not to listen to all the wild stories from Porthos. What else did he and Athos tell you?"

The rest of the afternoon passed in laughter and happy chatter as Aramis and Porthos outdid each other telling wildly exaggerated tales to the lad. Annabella laughed along, watching her son and her brother with tears, this time of joy, shining in her eyes.

"I can't wait to be a musketeer!" cried Rene as another story came to an end.

"I thought you wanted to be a general," said the General coolly, entering their gathering place.

"Well of course Grandpere," replied the boy rising from his place on the bench next to Aramis to go and greet his grandfather. The General swept the boy up into his arms. "There can be Musketeer generals, right Athos?" Athos nodded.

"You will grow to be a fine military general," said the General to his grandson. "The fiercest warrior in France!"

"If he wants to be," said Aramis rising, taking a step towards the two, a slight edge to his voice.

From behind him, Annabella also stood. A coldness in her eyes that had not previously been present when looking at her father. Her conversation with Aramis and their father's deception had greatly affected her.

"Yes," replied the General. "if he wants to be," he said looking at his children. The ghost of something flashed across his face, but what that emotion could have been was hard for Athos to pinpoint.

"I think it's best if we disburse for the time being and return to our quarters," said Athos, bowing slightly to the General.

"Yes,' said Annabella. Stepping forward, she brushed her hand lightly on Aramis bicep and took her son from her father's arms, then stood to face the musketeers. "Everything is fine," she communicated to Aramis with that light touch.

"Yes, Athos," she repeated, looking to the swordsman to help defuse the situation. "I think that's a wonderful idea. I was having such a good time I had not realized how much time has passed. It is time for Rene's music lesson, and I should like to rest a bit before we meet for dinner."

"Of course," said Athos with a bow, grateful for Annabella's poise and grace. "Thank you for your hospitality. We shall return later this evening, as you wish." Athos and Porthos bowed deeply to Annabella and the General. Aramis too gave a curt bow, as was his wont, his eyes on his sister and nephew. He winked at the boy who giggled and hid his face in his mother's shoulder. The General's eyes narrowed but he made no comment.

oOo


	9. Chapter 9

This was difficult. I really wanted to have more of the General's character show and capture the strained relationship with Aramis and his father...could bygones be bygones?

oooooooo

Back in their room at the Inn, Aramis fell back onto his bed with a sigh.

"How are you feeling?" asked Athos seriously, as he took a seat in the chair across from the man. Aramis swung his legs over the side of the bed to face Athos. He ran his hand through his hair settling it on his neck.

"To be honest, I don't know what to think," he said, helplessly. "I've come to find that the sister that I thought had forsaken and forgotten me loves me still despite the time and space that has separated us, and I have a nephew too."

"Who could pass for a younger version of yourself, I'm betting," Porthos said, sitting next to Aramis on the bed and bringing his hand up to rub his brother's neck.

Aramis chuckled. "He may look like me, but his temperament must be more his father's. He's too good and sweet tempered to be me," said Aramis. "Even as a child I always had a penchant for trouble and mischief – through no fault of my own!" he added with a smirk. "I think it was this mix of stubbornness and curiosity which most plagued my father. I learned very early from my mother to trust my instincts when it came to right and wrong. Let's just say my father had his own opinions…"

"It has been an emotional day," said Athos carefully. "Perhaps we should decline the invitation to dinner."

Aramis looked up, startled.

"Clearly there is much unresolved tension between you and your father. Annabella is aware of it too," said Athos. "There is much you're not telling us – that you're not telling Annabella, though I can tell she has her suspicions...of what, I do not know, and I would never force you to confide in us. I only ask, brother, out my concern for you. Perhaps limiting your exposure to the man will make the remainder of our time here easier for you."

Aramis was silent for a moment considering his brother's words. Athos was rarely this communicative, so each statement held much meaning. The pair locked eyes with each other continuing the conversation without words. Porthos nodding along silently, knowing exactly what arguments both men would be making. Finally, Aramis shook his head.

"I can't Athos," Aramis said, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his curls once more. "It's been too long. Don't you see? When I renounced my family all those years ago, I thought I had nothing. Now I know that I was wrong. That she didn't abandon me. I abandoned her! I cannot do that again. I have…a family," he said, eyes pleading for Athos to understand. Athos heart broke at the sight of his brother's despair. Deep in his heart Athos knew what it meant to have lost family, having lost his own brother, murdered by his wife. There was nothing Athos wouldn't give for the chance to look into his brother's eyes once more. He nodded, swallowing thickly, the love in his eyes reflected back to him from the brawler and the marksman seated on the bed.

* * *

When they arrived for dinner, the General greeted them.

"Good evening gentlemen. My daughter is awaiting you in the dining room." He said, gesturing for the men to proceed. Porthos shifted his stance only slightly, just in case. He wasn't sure why but there was something about the General that kept him unsettled. It was something about the cold dark eyes – so similar, yet so different from the pair he knew so well, and the way that they always lingered on Aramis. If that was it, Porthos wasn't sure, but he did know that Athos also felt uneasy as he straightened his already impeccable posture and began to enter the home.

"Thank you for the invitation to dinner," said Aramis awkwardly. His father turned to look at him. His expression was unfathomable, but his eyes still burned. After a curt nod to acknowledge the statement, the General continued to lead the way to the dining room.

Athos raised an eyebrow at Aramis, who shrugged in response as they made their way in the General's wake. Perhaps this would be the beginning of a reconciliation…

* * *

All things considered, dinner was as pleasant as could be expected. The General was mostly quiet, observing Aramis as he chatted merrily with Porthos and Annabella, while he and Athos discussed military history. It was strange, but it appeared to Athos that the General grew more and more agitated as the night drew on and Annabella's laughter grew louder.

"Perhaps we should call for some music," Annabella said. "Porthos, do you dance?" she teased.

"Yea, but not well," he replied with a gruff laugh. "Not a lot of dancin' at the garrison," he said with a grin.

"Nonsense," replied Aramis. "Don't let his size fool you. Porthos is the most nimble and graceful of dancers."

"We must have you dance!" cried Annabella. "It's been so long since I've danced with a man," she said.

"Then the men in this towns are fools," he responded, his mouth dropping open in embarrassment at the realization of what he had just said. He blushed deeply but looked defiantly at Aramis, daring him to make a joke. Aramis, for his part, was attempting to both stifle his laughter and not choke on his wine.

Annabella smiled at Porthos, her cheeks tinged pink as well. "You flatter me. Aramis, you never mentioned how charming and chivalrous your companion is. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from him," she teased her brother, causing both men to erupt in laughter.

The General stood suddenly, startling the others. "I'm afraid I must call it a night," he announced.

"Yes, it has grown quite late," said Athos, also rising.

"Good evening," he said, as he turned and marched swiftly from the room.

"How strange…" said Annabella, looking after her father thoughtfully.

"He is right," responded Aramis, also rising to his feet. "It is late. I expect that we'll receive his response for the King some time tomorrow…"

"And then you'll be leaving?" said Annabella, slightly shocked as this realization sank in.

"Unfortunately," said Athos. "It is our duty to return with a response for the King. It is a long return journey to Paris."

"And the King ain't exactly the most patient," added Porthos.

"I understand," she said glumly. "Will you join me tomorrow for whatever time you have left here. Perhaps we can have a picnic?" she said thoughtfully. "I should so wish Rene to know you," she said, looking imploringly at her brother.

"Nothing would make me happier," he replied, cupping her cheek in his hand.

* * *

The three men left and Annabella passed by her father's library on her way to her own chambers.

"Father?" she said inquisitively, poking her head into the room when she saw the glow of the lit hearth. "What are you doing?"

"I am preparing some of my documents. I want you to know that I intend to leave everything to Rene should anything happen to me," he said as he shuffled some papers around on his desk.

"He goes by Aramis now," replied Annabella.

Her father sneered. "Not _him_ " he said. "That man is unworthy of this family. He is a scar that should be hidden. You have always been forever doting on him. He is not worthy of your affection."

"Father!" said Annabella sharply. "He is your son – and my brother. I cannot help but love him."

Silence fell as her father glared at her from across the desk.

"Please father," Annabella soothed. "Whatever happened, was long ago. I will not cut Aramis from my life again. You must understand…"

"This is not a discussion," said the General, coldly. "You were raised to be obedient." He took a step towards her moving around the desk. "Need I remind you that this is my home? I am the law here. I am to be obeyed in all things." With that, he roughly grabbed her forearm, twisting and applying pressure to the limb.

"Father! Stop!" she gasped, surprised by the force and pain.

"You will obey me," he repeated, violently. "You will dismiss that man tomorrow and you will never allow him back into this home again. He will be dead to you. My life, OUR life has been built on discipline and order. That bastard is my greatest failure and the thought of him has plagued me for the past 12 years. I knew that one day he would return here to take everything that I've accomplished."

"No! You're wrong," cried Annabella. "Aramis is a Musketeer now. I'm sure if you ask him he'd want nothing!"

"You're a fool. You would always defend him, even as a child. Do not align yourself with something that is the target of my anger, lest my aim shift…" he threatened menacingly.

Annabella was on her knees now, forced down by the pain in her arm. "Father," she pleaded.

"You were always my treasure," he said coldly. "Perhaps I should have taught you that D'Herblay's feel no pain as I did with your bastard brother. I'm sure Rene will learn quickly…smart boy that he is.."

"Father, no!" she sobbed, fighting her tears. "Please…not my son...don't hurt my son…I'll do whatever you want. Anything!"

"Of course," he said coldly, releasing her arm. Annabella collapsed to the floor. "You are a good and obedient daughter…and your son will remain in my care as my heir. After tomorrow, we will never see... _Aramis_ again. Mark my words," he said cruelly, "he will be dead to you." He strode through the door, leaving Annabella curled on the floor.

oOo


	10. Chapter 10

Not sure what to say other than thanks for the reviews. It means a lot to hear what you think. I'm so glad i took the leap and finally posted to this amazing community.

Ok, on to the next chapter!

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The next morning dawned bright and warm in the coastal village. When the musketeers returned to the manor, the General greeted them in the courtyard. A group of his men gathered nearby.

"Gentlemen," he said as they approached. "You shall have your reply by this evening. Before you return to the inn. Ah!" he called as Annabella and her son appeared at the entranceway. "Here's my treasures." Annabella paled slightly at the sight of her father, but smiled as she approached him. Placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her son's curls, the General's lips curled upwards. "You are so precious to me," he said.

"Grandpere," said the boy excitedly. "We're going to go down to the beach to search for shells!" The older man smiled and looked at the boy's mother. Their eyes locked for a moment – a glance and a warning – then the older man entered the home saying nothing, his valet close at his heels.

"Hello!" called Aramis. "Everything all right?"

"Aramis!" cried the boy Rene, running to his uncle with a wild abandon. Aramis grinned at the boy's reaction and scooped him up into his arms.

"Hello,' he repeated to the boy. "What's this I hear about going to the beach?"

"Rene loves playing in the sand," said Annabella "He's promised to find me a new shell." She casually pulled her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders, flinching ever so slightly, a subtle gesture but not missed by the sharp eyes of the medic.

"Are you all right?" he said placing the boy on the ground.

"Oh yes, I'm fine," she gushed. "Just a little under the weather."

Aramis raised an eyebrow to her.

"I'm fine," she repeated firmly. "Porthos," she said, moving past her brother and smiling at the larger man. "Can you help me with the basket? I believe they've packed enough food for an army!" Aramis looked at Athos over his nephew's head. Athos shrugged his shoulders slightly, and the two men fell into step behind the boy who chatted merrily as they made their way towards the beach.

As the midday sun broke free from the few lingering clouds, Aramis and Porthos, both bootless and in shirt sleeves traipsed up and down the beach, Rene perched on Aramis' shoulders, inspecting every shell candidate that Porthos provided. Annabella and Athos watched amid the remains of their picnic lunch.

"You have no idea what seeing you again has meant to him," said Athos quietly.

Annabella smiled softly and looked at the swordsman. "I think the feeling is mutual," she said. After a few moments of silence Annabella began to cry as she sat watching her brother and her son. "He never should have come back here," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" said Athos, smothering his alarm. "Are you in danger?"

Subconsciously, Annabella drew her shawl tighter around her once more bringing her arm across her waist.

"Not if he leaves," she replied sadly. "I remember the day he was brought here. A boy, barely ten, all scuffed knees and elbows, but Rene – Aramis" she corrected herself, "Aramis was charming even then. I loved him as my brother instantly. I sometimes wonder if it was because of this – my doting – that father was so hard on him."

Athos sat quietly as Annabella struggled to put words to her thoughts.

"It started slowly I think. I don't really know. Father always hid it from me and Aramis never told me, but I knew. I knew and I did nothing," she said bitterly. "But what could I do? I was just a girl…" she trailed off again, thoughts swirling like the debris caught in the sea breeze on the beach.

"What did you know?" probed Athos gently.

Choking back a sob Annabella cast her eyes down. "Father is a military man. He was used to order and discipline…and corporal punishment," she said lowly. "Then along comes Aramis who was just so…Aramis!" she paused. "I think in the beginning, he truly was just trying to teach him some discipline. Every day father and Charles took Aramis for his lessons. I was usually occupied with lessons of my own. It was months before I started to notice the marks."

Alarm bells were sounding in Athos' head, but still he kept quiet, allowing Annabella to divest her story.

"I remember walking by his room and hearing him whimpering. I remember seeing the bruising on his chest, the lash marks on his back. He was a child, Athos! When I asked him how he got those marks, he told me they were from his lessons. That Father was teaching him how to be a man. He said they were his fault for not being better. He said he was fine!" she sobbed. "I was horrified. I asked him why he let them hurt him. He said that every time he cried, the kitchen boy, Paul, would be beaten in his place. Paul was a mute you see. Father knew that Paul wouldn't cry out. He knew that Aramis would do anything to protect the boy. He was innocent." Annabella's voice was hollow as she recalled this nightmare.

"I couldn't stand to see how they were "making him a man". One day I found him collapsed in the foyer. His rib was broken and his skull was bleeding. I brought him to my room. I stayed with him all night just to make sure he kept breathing. The next day I confronted my father. He said that Aramis had simply fallen down the stairs. He said that he was weak and sensitive and that no son of his would ever be seen to be weak," she said bitterly. "Three days later I was sent off to an Abbey in the North of France and married a few years later. I fought when they took me from him. What could I do?" she asked desperately. "I wrote him every day, but I just learned that father kept my letters from him. Father made him think I abandoned him, while actually I wept and prayed for him every day. Father would give me no knowledge, would tell me nothing of him. The last I heard of him was 12 years ago. Father wrote to tell me that Aramis had disgraced and disavowed our family. He said he had run away and that his final words were to damn us all."

"I wasn't sure if he was alive or dead, but in my heart I knew that Aramis was alive. Somehow I've always known.," she said. "Now that he's back, my father's anger has been building. You need to take him away from here. I don't know what my father will do but I think with Aramis gone, things will go back to how they were."

"But why?" asked Athos as the woman drew a breath. He reached out his hand and placed it on her knee to comfort her.

"Aramis," she began, "represents everything my father hates – compassion, wilfulness, sentiment, love. I think he sees Aramis as his antithesis. I'm frightened Athos. Please, take him from here. Save him. If you love him as I do, you will take him."

Athos was quiet, digesting all that had been said, warring with his own emotions. Rage, Disgust, Pity, and a need to protect his brother and this woman were all fighting for dominance. "I need to tell him," Athos said finally.

"No!" blurted Annabella. "You can't! You know what Aramis is like. If he thinks that we are in danger he will stop at nothing to save us. He will kill my father, and I will not have him hanged because of me. My son and I will be safe if Aramis never comes back here. Please Athos. You cannot tell him. Promise me you won't say anything until you're back and safe in Paris."

Athos looked at the desperate women, so like her brother. She would sacrifice herself, her freedom to protect him. In his heart Athos knew she was right, knew Aramis would do the same for her. That's what a sibling does. He would easily have given his life to save Thomas. And now, he thought, he would gladly offer his life if it meant saving Porthos or Aramis, and they would do the same.

Athos nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she gushed taking his hand. "I know you will keep him safe." They sat there for a moment, green eyes meeting blue, recognizing the same love and protection held within each other's gaze. A squeal and a bark of laughter had them looking up the beach as Rene ran towards them, hands fisted, Aramis and Porthos grinning behind him.

"Mamma!" he shouted, full of excitement. "Look what I have!" The boy opened his hands for his mother to examine his treasures.

"What beautiful shells!" she exclaimed. "Which one is for me?"

"This one," he said proudly holding up the white-spiralled cone.

"Beautiful," she responded. "That's the best one. Who is this other one for?" she asked, looking at the piece of sea glass clenched in his right hand.

The boy looked at the glass, considering it carefully. "Aramis," he announced decidedly, turning to face his uncle. Aramis dropped to his knee to face the boy, dark eyes full of emotion. "This way you have to promise to come back," he said simply. "You promised to teach me how to be a musketeer," his own dark eyes staring back at his uncle's, determined.

"I promise," said Aramis taking the shell from the boy. "Upon my honour as a musketeer," he said, sweeping off his hat and bowing to the boy.

Rene squealed with delight and tackled Aramis into the sand, the pair collapsing in a laughing heap.

"Not bad!" laughed Porthos. Athos couldn't smile, still troubled by his conversation with Annabella.

Annabella looked on, committing the scene to memory. She discreetly wiped away a tear.

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	11. Chapter 11

This chapter has some tear potential...You've been warned!

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Returning from the beach they were met by Charles at the front door to the home.

"My master has been called away," he said simply. "Here is his reply to the King. He will be unavailable to see you off and has asked me to dismiss you." The man's words sunk like stones to the pit of Aramis' stomach. "It is about time you remove yourselves and return to Paris. It's your duty, after all." His last words were dripping with scorn.

Athos reached forward and took the envelope. "Thank you," he said. "We will leave at first light. Please extend our thanks to your master for his hospitality." The dismissal was apparent in Athos' tone.

Charles' mouth dropped open at the tone of the swordsman, then strode away from the group gathered on the threshold, muttering darkly.

"Well," said Aramis softly, his voice slightly hollow. "I guess that's it." He looked down at his nephew and lightly mussed his hair. "I guess this is farewell then."

"No!" cried the boy. "Please, don't go! Mamma! Please! Grandpere will let them stay. He must!"

"No!" snapped Annabella. Aramis looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise. "No," she said again. "I'm afraid your uncle and his friends have a duty to the King. And a Musketeer must fulfil his duty," she said more softly. Aramis searched her face, but she would not meet his gaze.

"Your mother is right," said Athos. "We must return to the King. It has been an honour to meet you. Stay safe," he said, bowing to the boy and his mother. She caught his glance and nodded, her hand placed protectively on her son. Athos nodded back, returning the promise from behind Aramis' shoulder.

"Right," said Porthos, stepping forward to muss the boy's hair with his large palm. He bowed to the lady and taking her hand, kissed it gently. She squeezed his hand back tightly and cupped his face gently.

"Take care of him," she said, tilting her head towards Aramis. "Try to keep him out of trouble."

"That's been my mission for years," he said grinning and giving her a wink. He stepped back to join Athos. Looking up at her Porthos once again was struck by the woman's beauty. And sadness. The two held back to give the brother and sister some room.

Rene stood between them, fighting to hold back his tears. Aramis dropped to his knees and placed both hands on the boy's shoulders.

"What are you doing," he asked the boy.

"Grandpere says it's bad to cry. That soldiers don't cry."

Aramis scowled. "That is a lie," he told the boy fiercely. "Not all tears are bad," he continued. "When your heart is full, the tears come. Tears of love, tears of joy, and even sometimes tears of sorrow. Never be ashamed of what is in your heart," he said, wiping the tears from the boy's cheek, his own eyes boy flung himself into the musketeer's arm and sobbed into his shoulder.

Aramis scooped the boy into his arms and whispered into his ear. "I'm so glad to have met you, mi pequeno guerrero. Will you make a promise for me?" The boy nodded his head, rubbing the tears from his eyes.

"I need you to promise me that you'll take care of your mother," he said. "Promise me you'll make some trouble for her. Just a little," he added with a wink. The boy giggled and nodded. Aramis kissed his forehead and returned the boy to the ground.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief and handed it to the boy. "I promise," he said, "I'll be back, and when you are older, I will teach you to shoot and how to be a musketeer." The boy took the cloth and gazed adoringly at the blue fleur-de-lis and letter "A" embroidered onto it.

Stepping forward, Annabella approached her brother, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Aramis took her face in his hands and studied it gravely.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she replied. "Nothing. I'm just so glad to have been able to see you one more time," she said.

Aramis brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I will be back," he promised. "Now that we are reunited, I will not let the General part us so easily again," he said.

Annabella tensed at this. "You should go," she said, and placing her hand on his chest, she pushed him away, putting space between them. "Goodbye brother," she said. "Stay safe. Never forget that I love you." She kissed him on the cheek, then turned, and guided her son into the house.

"Annabella…" muttered Aramis gazing after her, his outstretched hand clenched into a fist where it had been holding her arm, his face dark and troubled.

"Aramis?" questioned Porthos, as the man turned from the house. The marksman hid his face below the brim of his hat as he moved towards the stables. He discreetly tried to brush the tears from his eyes as he checked his horse's tack.

The trio silently returned to the inn with Athos and Porthos riding slightly behind their desolate friend.

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	12. Chapter 12

Returning to the Inn, the three mean sat over a quiet dinner, Aramis absently pushing the stew around his bowl with a spoon.

"We should leave at first light," said Athos. "With luck, we can be in Paris in six days. Five if the weather holds."

"You alright?" asked Porthos, eyeing his friend from across the table. Aramis did not hear him. Porthos cocked an eyebrow at Athos who looked away with a slight shake of his head. The big musketeer narrowed his eyes at the swordsman who pretended not to notice the scrutiny.

Porthos tried again. "'Mis," he said, reaching out and placing a hand on the marksman's. Aramis raised his head, cloudy dark eyes meeting ones full of concern.

"Sorry," he said. "Did I miss something?"

Porthos shot Athos a concerned look.

"We were just discussing our preparations in order to leave in the morning. I hope to put a lot of distance between us and here in the first few days of our journey," said Athos, his eyes watching the marksman over the brim of his glass as he took a sip.

Porthos scowled at Athos before turning back to look at Aramis.

"Or we can wait an extra day," he said.

Aramis shook his head. "No," he said. "We have a duty to the King. We shouldn't put that off any further," he said absently. His brow furrowed as he stared into the distance.

"Aramis, are you okay?" said Porthos seriously, giving the marksman's hand another squeeze. Athos put his glass down and also looked at the man, blue eyes stormy as he grappled with what he knew.

Aramis looked from one man to the other and shook his head sighing softly. He ran his hands through his curls. "I'm fine," he said. "Just sad. That's all. That's the second time I've said goodbye to her like that. Both times it felt like it would be the last time I'd ever see her again." Sighing again and running his hand once more through his hair Aramis stood. "I think I need to get some air," he said.

"I'll join you," volunteered Porthos. Aramis shook his head.

"Thanks mon ami," he said, "but I could use just a moment." Porthos looked a little deflated, but nodded his acquiescence.

Athos caught the marksman's eye. "We'll begin packing our things. Don't wander far. We should get as much rest as possible before we start off. It's not an easy trip," he said.

Aramis smiled softly, noting the concern in his brother's eyes he tried to instil some confidence in him.

"Don't worry," said Aramis. "I just need a little time. I'll be in bed shortly. I'd like to just step into the church before we leave," he said, and stepped away from the table and out the door.

Alone in their room, Porthos rounded on the lieutenant as they prepared for bed.

"Alright," he rumbled lowly. "You better tell me what's going on."

Athos looked back at the big man who had fire and concern in his dark eyes, and sighed.

"There isn't much to say," he replied. "The sooner we can get Aramis away from here and back to Paris, the better."

Porthos' eyes flashed. Athos sighed again.

"So far it is nothing," said Athos. "It may perhaps simply be anxiety on Annabella's part. Our tenure here has been tense for her." Porthos raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Annabella seems to think that tensions between Aramis and her father may actually be worse than appearances. She had indicated that having him return to Paris as quickly as possible would be best for everyone."

"Was she in danger?" asked Porthos, alarmed.

"No, she didn't think so," said Athos, a hint of worry in his voice. "She made me swear I wouldn't tell Aramis. She was afraid that he might act rashly and might do something reckless…"

"An' you believe that? That not telling him is the best solution?" he asked incredulously.

"I swore, Porthos. Annabella said that removing Aramis would remove the tension. Think about it. You know Aramis better than anyone. What would he do if he thought that Annabella or her son were unhappy in any way because of the General?"

Porthos paused for half a second, "He'd kill 'him." He said flatly. His words sank into the silence.

"That's right," said Athos. "And then he would be hanged for murder."

"She's protecting him," said Porthos thoughtfully.

Athos nodded. "She's trying to defuse the situation. With Aramis removed from the equation, she can control the situation with her father."

"All she has to do is never see him again." Porthos growled. "We need to tell him," said Porthos. "He needs to know…"

"I know," said Athos. "We will. On the road, when cooler heads can prevail. So far there is no threat, you see? It's a fear and a suspicion, but it is better to be prudent than sorry."

Porthos nodded glumly in agreement. "I know," he grumbled. "But 'Mis is not going to like it. I've never seen him as happy as he is with the boy. It's his family now Athos."

"I know," he said gravely. "That's why this will be difficult for him, and easier if there's some distance between them." Both men grew quiet, neither one comfortable or wanting to inflict this inevitable devastation upon their brother. They sat silently, waiting to hear his boots climbing the stairs to their room.

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	13. Chapter 13

Ok, this is a 2-for-1 as the last chapter felt short! The Italics indicate a flashback. Enjoy!

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Aramis knelt before the altar in the church that proudly stood on the edge of town, watching over the residents of its village. Even as a child, Aramis could vividly remember being comforted by the statuesque building. Though not overly grand, the statuary's craftsmanship, the brightly coloured glass windows and the intricate mosaic tiled floor always struck Aramis with their beauty.

"Perhaps the General was right when he said I should become a priest," mused Aramis. "Maybe then I would have learned the discipline he so thought I needed."

Aramis ran his hand through his hair again, fingers tracing their customary path over the scar hidden beneath the mop of curls. His emotions were wreaking havoc on his mind, and he came to the church hoping for solace and clarity. However, as he knelt before the altar, a phantom throb emanating from the hidden scar, Aramis' soul was more turbulent than ever.

"It was so long ago!" Aramis blurted out to the candles, the only things sharing his confession. "How can this place still affect me like this?" he thought.

It had been years since D'Herblay had even crossed his mind. Years since he thought about his father or the lessons that were taught to him. And yet now…now it was like no time had passed. His reunion with his sister had caused old fears and panic to rise up in him once more. Every fibre in him longed to get his sister and her son away from his maniacal father. The urge to protect them forcing its way to the front of his emotions again.

"Protect them from what?" he thought bitterly. "It was me he hated. Never her. She's safe with him. He'd never harm her," he thought, digging his nails into his palm as though trying to mark this resolve upon his body.

"But what about the boy?" he countered. Aramis could already see the lessons taking hold on his nephew. The shame of tears, the suppression of pain. Aramis shuddered and raised his eyes to the ornate crucifix hanging on the wall.

It was a long time ago he thought as painful memories flashed through his mind.

 _"You will never cry out," said his father, as he handed Charles the rod. "Tears are weakness," he said as the first blow of the day fell. Aramis had been there for over a year now, learning these "lessons" at his father's hand. The second lash fell and Aramis flinched as the rod made contact with his already damaged ribs._

 _"You will be a soldier, Rene." His father continued. "If I am to acknowledge you as my son, you will not be weak. Your weakness will be seen as my weakness, and I have no weakness," he spat as Charles struck the boy again, the impact sending the boy to his knee._

 _"Get up," his father instructed. "You will feel no pain," he said. Another blow fell on the young boy's back. "You will feel nothing," he said. "Swallow your pain. Cast it aside. Ask Charles for another."_

 _The boy trembled as he pushed himself to his feet._

 _"Ask for another," he said, "Or perhaps you'd prefer if that boy from the kitchen took your blows for you, like a true nobleman's son. Or perhaps Annabella? She is my true daughter after all. Perhaps these lessons will come easier to her…"_

 _"No!" shouted the boy. His father struck him, knocking him backwards off his feet. His head bounced roughly on the stone step of the cellar room._

 _"How dare you raise your voice to me," his father said coldly. "It is your duty to obey me."_

 _Rene, the boy Aramis, struggled to his feet once more, blood trailing down the side of his face. "Do…not…touch her…" he sputtered out, knees shaking violently, but he brought his burning dark eyes to meet his father's. Charles raised the rod again, but the General raised his hand to halt the blow._

 _"So…" he said, grinning maliciously. "You love her. Good. Her fate is in your hands now then," he said. "Every time you disobey me, she will be punished. Any time you cry out, she will be punished. You will feel no pain Rene. If you do, her pain will be doubled whatever you might feel. Think on that," he said cruelly, striking his son once more. The boy staggered but kept his feet. His father's eyes alighted as his son's burned with anger and determination._

 _He would not cry out. He would feel no pain._

 _"Again," said his father. "The ribs," he said as his lackey stepped forward with a smug cruel gleam in his eye. The General left the room as the next blows fell._

Aramis brought his hand to his hairline once more and traced the scar hidden within it. That was the night that Annabella had found him, unconscious on the stairs. Aramis had no idea how he had gotten there, and fought Annabella to let him return to his room, swearing the blow was an accident and he had fallen down some stairs. He couldn't risk his father thinking that he might be in pain. He could never remember how long these lessons went on for – his father and Charles discovering new ways of testing him, but eventually his body became strong and his will even stronger, but in his heart his desire to protect burned. They were never able to cow him, to quench the fire within him. When Annabella was sent away, Aramis' desire to protect her grew. She was a hostage somewhere, and vulnerable, should his father grow upset. So Aramis stayed, and he learned to ignore the weaknesses of his body, to push down the pain. To not let injuries impede his action.

His father's sinister eyes seemed to glow before him in the dim candlelight of the church, his face alight with a cruel leer. The face changed to his own, full of anguish, like it was on the day he learned of his mother's death, like it was on the day he left this place, like it was after Savoy…and quite suddenly the face before his eyes changed once more, this time to the face of Rene, his nephew. Eyes full of curiosity and trust, a vision of goodness, adventure and the desire to please.

"No," thought Aramis. "I will not let him teach these lessons to the boy. He will not try to build another monster where I failed. I will not let the demon destroy his heart in the name of obedience." Aramis leapt to his feet, resolved to take his sister and her son as far away from the cruelty of his father's home as possible. He exited the church and paused.

Bright white lights burst before his eyes suddenly as the side of his head exploded in pain. He dropped heavily, the stars overhead swimming drunkenly before darkness took him.

oOo


	14. Chapter 14

Just a few more chapters!

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It was the light shining in from the open window that startled Athos awake. He was still seated in the chair by the fire, the empty bottle of wine lying next to him on the table. He had not intended to fall asleep. He must have drifted off while waiting for Aramis.

Athos looked at Aramis' still made bed, a sense of panic beginning to grow in his chest. "Wake up," he said, throwing Porthos his doublet.

"We need to go. Now." He commanded.

"Wha?" asked Porthos groggily. "What time's it?"

"Morning. Aramis is missing. He did not return last night," stated Athos as he pulled on his boots.

Porthos bolted upright. "What d'ya mean?" he shouted, jamming his feet into his boots and struggling with the sleeves of his doublet. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure," said Athos grimly. "He didn't return from the church last evening. Let us hope he simply fell asleep mid-prayer, but I feel something much fouler at work here."

Porthos growled and nodded as the two men burst from the room, Porthos tucking Aramis' pistols into his weapons' belt.

It wasn't difficult to find the church at the edge of the village. The doddering old priest was unhelpful; having retired early the night before he had no recollection of a man fitting Aramis' description entering the property. The duo's stress level heightened significantly when Porthos found Aramis' hat discarded in some shrubbery. The feeling doubled when Athos found blood as he shuffled some loose gravel near the stairs.

Without a word, the men leapt to their horses and headed toward the General's manor. As they approached the manor, the missing soldiers guarding the entrance were immediately obvious. They approached the door cautiously and were met by a flushed and terrified looking Annabella running for the door.

"Athos! Porthos!" she panted. "Where is Aramis?!" her eyes were wide and wild. In her hand she clenched a piece of parchment.

"We don't know. He was taken last night leaving the church and did not return to our room at the inn."

Annabella blanched dramatically. "Sit down," instructed Porthos as he helped her to a seat on the steps. "What's going on?" he said urgently, "Where are the soldiers?"

"I don't know," she wept running a hand through her hair. "After you left, I remained in my rooms for the remainder of the day. Father roused the household in the early morning demanding that his ship be prepared. He gave his men instructions that he would be heading out on the evening tide and then disappeared. I don't know what's going on!" she sobbed, trembling violently.

Porthos pulled her to him and stroked her dark hair as she sobbed into his chest.

"Where is his ship docked?" asked Athos.

"Just below at the pier," she replied shakily.

"Ok," responded Athos, tersely, but gently. "Where is Rene?"

"I made him hide," she choked. "He's hidden in the armoire in Aramis' old room. I told him to not come out for anyone unless it was me, one of you or Aramis."

"Good," said Athos. "He will be safe there." Annabella swallowed thickly, green eyes fighting for control of her tears. She pushed herself away from Porthos. "Athos," she said. "I found this." She handed the lieutenant the wrinkled parchment she had fisted in her hand.

"It's the message you delivered from the King. The King has decided to retire my father. He is taking his command from him. I think that's why he's leaving. He's panicking. I think he may have done something to Aramis because of this," she said desperately.

Athos finished scanning the letter and passed it to Porthos. "I fear you might be right," he replied. "For a man as proud as your father, his command means everything to him. And to have Aramis be the one delivering this information…"

"He's likely blaming Aramis for the King's decision," finished Porthos. "Right," he said. "We only have a few hours before the tide sets out. There's time yet."

Athos nodded. "Annabella, can you think of a place where your father may have taken Aramis?"

Annabella thought carefully. "Father would not have taken him from the premises…he would have wanted utter control over the situation. He commands his men, but he doesn't trust them…not with something personal like this. He doesn't trust anyone. Aramis is his weakness, and father is never weak, especially in front of his men, so I doubt that means there will be many guards. The men are all preparing the ship," she said, thinking hard, working her way through her Father's strategy.

"Charles!" she said suddenly. "Charles will be with him. I think I know where they may have taken him," she said and she leapt to her feet, running back into the house, the two musketeers at her heels.

oOo


	15. Chapter 15

There was some amazing feedback on the last chapter. Thanks so much!

This chapter has some scenes of violence - I don't know if it's too graphic, but consider this a warning!

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Aramis slowly opened his eyes. His hands were bound and strung up above his head. The floor in front of him spun slightly and caused Aramis to close his eyes, struggling to control the wave of nausea that hit him. The taste of copper in his mouth and the tightness on the side of his case indicated that he was bleeding. He was vaguely aware that his doublet had been removed. He opened his eyes again slowly and steeled himself as the room came into view. He was back. Back in that hated room, that torture chamber from his past. He was back, and there, same as ever stood Charles and his father, both men's eyes aflame with violence and malice. Two faceless guards stood by the door.

"Thank you for joining us," said his father coldly. "The lessons always went so much easier when you were conscious," he whispered cruelly. "Charles has missed you," he continued. "He insists that Rene will make a much better pupil than you were, but it looks like I've grown a bit sentimental in my old age. I said Charles would need to wait until the boy was at least ten." He sighed, "Maybe that's why the King has seen it fit to strip me of my command."

"You won't touch him," said Aramis, hatred dripping from every word.

Charles strode swiftly towards Aramis and began to punch him rapidly in his sides. With his arms bound Aramis had no way to protect himself. He wheezed slightly after the onslaught. The old valet was still strong when his victim was defenceless.

His father tsked. "You could never hold your tongue, could you?" he said, mockingly.

"We'll do better with the boy, master," sneered Charles into the face of Aramis.

In an instant Charles leapt back, hand clutching his face as Aramis landed firm contact with the bridge of the vile man's nose - a move he had picked up from Porthos. Blood spurt between Charles' fingers as he howled, both eyes immediately blackening.

"Impressive," said his father with a glower. "That will be broken for sure."

Charles stood back, whimpering slightly, unable to practice the cruel lessons he preached.

"I was always proud of the violence that lived in you," the General continued. "It's only in these moments that you ever could resemble my son."

"You're a madman," said Aramis. "That's why the King has stripped you of your power. His Majesty doesn't want a madman commanding his troops!" The General slowly began circling Aramis, picking up the lash.

"You're a disgrace. Torturing young boys to sate your own sickness. Ashamed of your own weakness, your lack of honour!" Aramis spat at his father. "I was the one who disavowed you! I was ashamed to be related to something so cruel – to be the son of a monster!" Years of unspoken anger burst forth from his lips. He knew he would pay for his outburst, but he didn't care.

The first whiplash came down and Aramis' whole body tensed. The second blow fell, then the third, then the fourth. On and on went the attack, Aramis struggled to keep his feet, but refused to cry out. Charles sat on the floor in the corner grinning maliciously. The two guards at the door remained emotionless, unaffected.

The blows stopped suddenly and Aramis sagged but remained standing. His shirt, now a map of bloody trails where the whip tore at his flesh.

The General came to stand in front of him. "I will break you before I kill you," he snarled. "You will finally learn obedience. You will beg for the mercy you know will not come and your brothers will not find you. This hope for mercy, this dependence on love, your biggest weaknesses, will be your undoing in the end."

oOo

Athos and Porthos trailed after Annabella as they ran down the halls to a door off of the kitchen. She led them down a dark staircase. Two guards stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Porthos and Athos quickly dispatched them with their main gauches. They continued down the underground hallway, stopping at a thick wooden door.

"There's a room at the end of this hallway on the other side of this door," whispered Annabella. "That's where Father would take Aramis for his lessons," she said shivering. Porthos and Athos looked at each other and nodded.

"Annabella, you might want to stay here," said Porthos gently.

"No," she said firmly. "I couldn't help him once. I will not let that happen again."

The glare in her eyes overpowered her trembling voice and brooked no argument. Athos caught her eye, and after a silent exchange he nodded swiftly. Porthos handed Annabella one of Aramis' pistols. The hand than took it was steady.

"Ok," said Porthos, "Here we go!" and with that, the large man hurled himself at the door.

oOo

Loud banging could be heard down the hall. Charles sat upright nervously. Aramis laughed softly and menacingly, earning him a blow from his father.

"Take care of it," the man snapped at Charles who sprang to his feet, the two thugs trailing behind, leaving father and son alone.

Aramis laughed again, his eyes burning like two coals in the darkness. "You're afraid," he said slowly. "You're afraid and alone," he said.

Aramis laughed again, a grim satisfaction stripping the laughter of any humour or warmth.

"Silence," hissed the General, tightening his grip on the whip once more.

"You have spent your whole life demanding obedience, absolute obedience. You cut yourself off from any weakness, any relationships, any human contact. Any allies. And now you are alone."

Two more blows were delivered to Aramis' sides. He hung his head, wheezing heavily but still managed to cough out a laugh. "You thought you were so strong, but without the title, what are you, father?" he said, using that name for the first time in 12 years, full of derision. "You have nothing," he hissed, "You are a weak, sad, and desperate old man. I pity you."

"Silence!" screamed the General, as the sound of the skirmish outside could be heard from within the cell. The General who was typically meticulously dressed was in total disarray. His hair which was usually slicked back fell in front of his eyes. He struck Aramis again and pulled his bloodied hands through his hair.

"You never understood," said Aramis, spitting blood onto the floor, his head rolling between his shoulders. "Strength comes from the heart. It comes from other people," he said weakly but triumphantly, raising his head and managing to take his full weight upon his feet. "It comes from valuing life and from the knowing and the willingness to die for something other than yourself, and knowing that in miraculous situations, there will be others who will be willing to kill and to die for you." he managed to cough. "My brothers are coming."

"Then they will either die for you or watch you die," snarled the General at his son, cold fury in every syllable. He pulled out his pistol and took his dagger into his other hand. Once again, Aramis drew back his head and made hard contact with his father's face. The General stepped back, recovering quickly, blood pouring down his face.

"You will watch them die, you bastard. If you don't bleed out first," he said and plunged the dagger blade into Aramis' side. Aramis grunted as the blade pulled free, blood immediately spilling from his side. "Now, cry for me" whispered the General, eyes locked on his son's.

oOo


	16. Chapter 16

Ok, sorry! NHL playoff hockey had be delay in posting this! I don't even know what to say about this one, so I'll just leave it. Thank you so much for the kind support throughout! There might be one more chapter after this!

Just wanting to repeat my warning about the violence...and maybe the need for tissues?

oOo

It took three tries for Porthos to knock down the door. When he did he immediately found himself engaged with one of the armed men. Athos too found himself in a similar situation with the other guard.

Porthos and his man were evenly matched in terms of strength and size as they grappled on the right side of the hall. Athos quickly dispatched his opponent with a few quick thrusts of his rapier. The thug was clearly no swordsman.

"Athos!" shouted Annabella just in time as Charles leapt from the shadows and began attacking Athos with a drawn rapier. The old valet was surprisingly talented and was fuelled by rage, making him a more difficult opponent than Athos was expecting. He recovered quickly and grinned at the sight of the man's smashed nose.

"Aramis is still alive!" thought Athos.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Porthos subduing his opponent, the men tangled in a strong chokehold.

"He's a disgrace," snarled the valet. "My master had the right to kill him"

Athos felt his blood boil. "No!" he shouted.

Rage momentarily overtook the lieutenant and before he knew it, the valet lay still at his feet, lifeless eyes gazing at the ceiling.

"You all right?" called Porthos as he dropped the lifeless body of his own opponent.

"Fine," said Athos. "But you're bleeding."

"Just a graze. Had a blade hidden in his sleeve."

Athos nodded. "Where's Annabella?" he asked just as the sound of gunfire erupted from the end of the hall.

oOo

Annabella stood at the back of the hallway as the musketeers grappled with their opponents. From the corner of her eye Annabella saw Charles slither his way toward Athos, rapier drawn. His face and the front of his livery were covered in blood.

Athos had just defeated his opponent and had looked over to where Porthos stood when Charles made to attack.

"Athos!" she called out to the swordsman, who rallied just in time to parry what would have been a deadly blow. Annabella gripped the pistol in her hand and ran down the hallway to the open door at the end of the hall.

She entered just as her father plunged the blade in her brother's bloodied body. She watched as the colour drained from his face.

"Cry for me," she heard her father hiss cruelly as he raised the blade again.

"No!" she screamed. Her father turned stunned for a moment, but recovered quickly and with an evil grin, went in for the killing blow once more.

Annabella did not hesitate. At the sight of the manic gleam in her father's eye, she raised Aramis' ornate pistol and fired, hitting her father in the side.

The force knocked him backwards and into the shadows, away from where Aramis was suspended.

oOo

"Aramis!" she cried and ran to her brother's side. Grabbing the blade that her father had dropped, she hacked viciously at the rope suspending her brother. Aramis dropped like a stone when the line was cut.

"Aramis!" she cried again, throwing herself down beside him and gathering his head into her lap.

"Don't move!" she said and began applying pressure on the stab wound. "I'm going to save you," she whispered urgently, brushing his hair from his face.

"You came…" Aramis sputtered, blood speckling his lips.

"Of course!" she whispered, tears falling. "I wouldn't let him hurt you. Not again. Not ever again," she sobbed.

A clanging sound startled her as she turned to see her father rising to his feet. He had his pistol drawn and was bleeding profusely from the gunshot wound on his left side.

"You…" he snarled at his daughter, as she clung to her brother protectively in her arms.

"You…You betrayed me. You disobeyed me…for him? For this bastard?"

"He is my brother. I will not let you harm him, you monster," she said defiantly. Green eyes burning as they stared down her father's pistol.

As her words landed, each like a dagger to his heart, the General howled with rage and took aim.

The air exploded with the sound of gunshot. Annabella sat there, unflinching, cradling Aramis in her arms as her father dropped the pistol in front of her.

She watched as he slowly crumpled to the floor, a dark stain on his chest growing to meet the one on his side, the fire finally extinguished from those violent eyes.

In from the doorway rushed Athos and Porthos, the pistol in Porthos' hand still smoking. Aramis' pistol.

Athos rushed into the room and fell at Annabella's side. Porthos stood roaring and circling, daring anyone else to try to harm his brother again.

"Aramis!" cried Athos cupping his brother's face. He lowered his cheek to Aramis' lip. "Good!" he thought. "He's still breathing."

"Aramis!" he called again, "What happened?" he said to Annabella.

"My father," she choked, desperately, her hands covered in her brother's blood. "He stabbed him with the dagger. He had him suspended. I'm not sure if I hurt him when I cut him down."

Athos checked the stab wound; it was still bleeding slowly from beneath his and Annabella's hands. Everything else would have to wait. Somehow he needed to rouse his brother.

Pinching his earlobe Athos muttered, "Open your eyes."

"C'mon, 'Mis!" called Porthos urgently as he hovered over them, his eyes full of fear and panic.

"Aramis," said Athos again, tapping the man's face. "Open your eyes!" he said, with all the urgency and command he could muster.

Nothing...

...And then Aramis' eyelashes fluttered as he tried to open his eyes. Annabella gasped as Porthos coughed out a laugh in relief, wiping tears from his eyes.

"'thos?" Aramis croaked, dark brown orbs peeking out from heavy eyelids.

"How are you," Athos asked.

"I'm – " Aramis began.

"Don't you dare say fine," warned Athos.

Aramis grimaced. "I'm...sore…and cold," he muttered, each word an audible strain for the man.

Annabella let out a soft sob.

"'nabella?" Aramis whispered, searching to find her face. "I couldn't let him hurt you…" he tried to explain as he continued the fight to not close his eyes.

"Nor I you," she said brushing the hair back from his forehead again. "He can never hurt us anymore," she said, her tears creating small rivulets as they washed the blood from her brother's face.

Aramis grimaced again, his features contorted by his pain.

"Aramis," said Athos, shaking him gently, "I know you are tired brother, but I need you to stay with me a few moments longer until we can treat the wound in your side, and then I promise to let you sleep, ok?"

Aramis opened his eyes once more, and making eye contact with all three pairs that hovered over him – blue, green and brown – he nodded. "I knew you'd come for me."

oOo


	17. Chapter 17

This is it - the Epilogue I guess. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. This is my first story and the response has been overwhelming! I've started work on a few others so I'll have more for our Musketeers to come soon!

Cheers!

oooooooooooo

Two days later, Aramis lay in bed, the sun spilling into the room filling it with light and warmth. Someone had opened his window to allow the salty breeze to filter in from the sea. Slowly, his door squeaked open and a little curly head peered into the room.

"Come in Rene," said Aramis, opening one eye to regard the boy.

The boy slowly approached the bed. Aramis struggled into an upright position, wincing and coughing slightly as he lowered his ravaged back against a pillow. Though much improved, the lash marks made being comfortable nearly impossible. His heavily bandaged torso was hidden under a white shirt – the only visible indication of what had passed between himself and the General was the heavy bruising around his jaw and cheekbone though the marks it would leave on his back and his soul would stay with him forever. The boy ran to fetch the glass of water that stood on the side table and presented it to his uncle who took it with a smile.

"Are you ok?" whispered the boy. "Mamma said you were hurt. She and Porthos have been very worried about you. They said I shouldn't come in here, but I wanted to make sure you were ok…."

Aramis smiled. "I'm much better for your company. Better, but bored! Between you and me," he whispered mischievously, "Porthos is a bit of a worrier."

"Mamma too," Rene replied in a conspiratorial whisper.

"So, Mamma and Porthos were worried, but not Athos?" Aramis asked.

Rene shook his head. "Athos didn't say anything, but I knew he was worried. He was even quieter than usual and he was here all the time at night. Porthos said it was so you wouldn't be alone…"

"Athos? Even quieter?" asked Aramis. "I didn't think that was possible," he said which had Rene giggling.

"I wasn't worried," said Athos, entering the room, "because I knew you were too stubborn to die. Besides, if you are ever to be killed, it will be by me when it becomes impossible to silence you any other way," he said, his bright blue eyes full of mirth.

Aramis grinned up at the swordsman, who affectionately and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," said the marksman, then grinned sheepishly. "Well, maybe not my best, but still better than most."

"Remind me ta review the definition of fine with you again," grumbled Porthos as he entered the room with Annabella. Rene laughed from the foot of the bed. Aramis chuckled.

"Will you be able to ride?" asked Athos. "With the General…passing," he said delicately, "his reply to the King is no longer of importance, but we must inform his Majesty of what has passed."

Aramis nodded, "it will be…uncomfortable, but I will be ready to ride on the morrow." Athos nodded.

"No," whispered the boy. "You can stay here! Stay with Mamma and me! Mamma won't mind! We're family! Please Mamma, please!" he said crawling over Aramis' legs to beg before his mother. Annabella reached out her hand and cupped her son's face.

"I'm sorry, my little warrior, but your uncle must return to Paris. He has his duty to the King," she said, her eyes shining with pride. Aramis looked at his sister and nephew and his heart burned in his chest.

"But then we will be all alone," said Rene, quietly. The sound of defeat in the boy's voice broke every adult heart in the room.

"Rene," said Aramis, "Come here."

The boy scuttled up the bed and nestled against his uncle. Aramis suppressed the wince of pain as the action aggravated his injuries – something Athos and Porthos both made mental notes of.

"Rene, what did I say to you? What did I promise?" asked Aramis softly.

"You promised…you promised that you would come back…that you would teach me to be a musketeer," said the boy.

"And a musketeer never breaks his promise," said Aramis sagely. "I promise you that though I may not always be with you here at D'Herblay, I will always be with you here," he said tapping the boy's chest where his heart was, "As you shall be in mine. I will be back to check on you as often as I can – though it may be a very long time between visits – as long as I am welcome," he said, turning his head to look at his sister.

"Don't be an idiot," she said, her eyes filled with fire and tears. "You are always welcome. As are your brothers," she said, beaming at Athos and Porthos. Porthos drew in a breath and blushed slightly – whether it was caused by emotion or once more by the beauty of the incredible woman beside him, he could still not be sure.

Aramis smiled at her, his dark eyes reflecting her green ones, communicating a lifetime of love and pride and a promise of family that could not be put into words. Rene wriggled and Aramis pulled him closer. Rene placed his head on the crook of Aramis' neck and Aramis lowered his head to rest on the boy's, their dark curls blending perfectly. They all were silent for a few minutes until two sets of soft snores drifted through the room.

Annabella's light laugh tinkled like a chime as she drew a blanket over her sleeping son and brother before exiting the room with the two musketeer, all three wearing matching grins.

The next morning, after a careful inspection of his wounds from the cook and Annabella, Aramis made his way outside to where Athos, Porthos and their three horses stood waiting.

Aramis turned to face his sister and embraced her tightly. She pulled back slightly and kissed him on the forehead.

"This is the first time we'll be parting where my heart won't be breaking," said Aramis, a roguish grin on his face.

"Perhaps I'm losing my touch," she laughed. Aramis laughed as well before cupping her face in his hand.

"I love you sister," he said, eyes beaming. "I cannot tell you how much it means to me to have family."

Annabella laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. "You've always had family," she said looking over his shoulder at Porthos and Athos.

Aramis looked at them grinning and dropped his head and blushed. "I'm not sure how I deserve all this…"

"I told you Aramis," she said, "It's your heart. Your heart is your strength. It draws people to you and drives you to be the man you are. The man we are all proud to call brother." Aramis beamed at her, and kissing her cheek they turned and made their way down the steps to the waiting horses. When they reached his mare, Aramis stroked her nose affectionately. She nuzzled his chest, and nickered, admonishing him slightly.

"I know," he whispered to her. "I'm sorry I haven't visited. I've been a little tied up."

She nickered once again and affectionately nudged his shoulder. Turning once more to face his sister and nephew, Aramis crouched and opened his arms to the boy who flung himself into them. Aramis grimaced as his stitches protested and the lacerations on his back made themselves known again. Still, Aramis clung tighter to the boy.

"You promise you'll come back?" Rene whispered.

"On my honour as a musketeer," Aramis whispered back into the curly head. "And you remember your promise to me," he said with a mischievous grin.

The boy pulled away giggling and stood by his mother. "Oh, I will!" he said, looking up at her.

"Oh really," said Annabella. "And what did you promise?"

"I promised to cause some trouble for you!" he said, mischievous grin matching his uncle's.

"Not too much!" called Aramis.

"Right," replied Rene. "Not too much." The adults all laughed.

Aramis turned, and with Porthos' help mounted his mare and settled in the saddle. It would be a long and difficult trip, but it was hard to think about the pain when his heart was so full.

Athos stepped forward and bowed to Annabella, who curtsied delicately. She laughed then and drew him into an embrace. Startled at first, Athos was smiling when they separated.

"Family doesn't bow," she said teasingly.

Athos smiled. Could it be possible for him too to regain a little of what he lost in this big hearted family?

"And family doesn't ask," he told her earnestly, "If you ever need anything, you need only send word and we will be here with as much speed as possible."

"I know," she said, beaming, as green gaze met blue. "Thank you, Athos, for everything." With a small grin and a kiss to her hand, Athos turned and mounted his horse and waited with his brother.

Finally, Porthos stepped forward and took his place before Annabella. He ruffled Rene's hair, "See ya around," he said roughly, failing to hide the emotion in his voice. Rene beamed up at Porthos and bowed. Porthos cleared his throat, overcome with the boy's gesture.

Annabella stepped towards him and she took his face in her hands. The light shone on her dark hair making it glisten.

"Oh god," thought Porthos as his heart melted again. He blushed and looked away.

She smiled and raised his head to meet her gaze, and kissed his lips. Behind them, Athos raised his eyebrow; Aramis' jaw had dropped open before erupting into a huge grin.

"Promise me you'll take care of him," she said. "That you'll take care of all of you."

Porthos smiled and brought his hand to her face. "I promise," he said.

"I know," she replied, beaming at him.

Grinning and blushing, he turned away and mounted his horse, ignoring the matching smirks on his brother's faces, he urged his horse down the long drive, Athos following.

Aramis hesitated for a moment and looked at his sister and her son, both faces beaming back at him through happy tears and waving at him as he set out, their eyes shining with love. He paused for a moment, sending a thankful prayer to his god for the gift that was his family and tipping his hat to his sister and nephew, he rode away, following his brothers, his dark eyes blazing with love for the family he was leaving and the one he was catching up to.


End file.
